


The Gate Of Hell, Or, On The Redemption Of Souls

by molybdomantic



Category: Hell Gate - A. E. Housman, William McGonagall - Works
Genre: A classic ruined, Abysmal doggerel, Victorian moralising
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 17:36:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17125760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/molybdomantic/pseuds/molybdomantic
Summary: A E Housman in the style of William McGonagall, with apologies to both.





	The Gate Of Hell, Or, On The Redemption Of Souls

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lnhammer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lnhammer/gifts).



Once there was a soldier whose life was not wholesome  
And many of his habits were not fulsome.  
Though he hoped to go to Heav'n it was not to be  
Because he had behaved so wickedly.  
Saint Peter took his measure and decided  
That he was not good enough to be admitted  
And so he was sent off to HELL instead.

The road to Hell was not a pretty sight  
Everything was lit by a gloomy twilight  
And it was not possible to find an ally  
Nay nor even to see the sky.

Although there was a giant castle of burning fire  
Inside which damned souls are tortured on a pyre  
Those who have strayed from the path of right  
And thus have come to a terrible plight.  
This cast itself an eerie light  
That was not cause for joy or delight  
But instead looked to have burnt for aeons  
Fuelled by the burning bodies of felons  
Who had been sent to HELL instead.

Although the walls could not quite be seen  
Beneath their dusky screen  
Yet a man could just be spied  
Marching up and down the ramparts wide  
And he was visible because he was on fire  
The flames climbed around him and still yet he did not expire.  
His firey armour seemed quite magical  
As if from an ancient song or madrigal  
And though he looked very smart  
It must have hurt him to his heart  
Because he had been sent to HELL instead.

Our soldier thought back upon his life  
And all the trouble he had caused and strife  
From Land's End all the way to Fife  
And especially to his poor long-suffering wife.  
Because he had allowed himself to be tempted  
By drink and all the things that preempt it  
Fighting and gambling and even worse  
The drunkard's everlasting curse.

The sentry too must have lived a very bad life  
To be punished with such awful strife  
Perhaps he killed a man for a locket  
Or robbed a house to line his pocket  
For these can lead to the gates of Hell  
No matter whether done ill or well.

Our soldier thought he knew the wretch  
Maybe he had fought in the same trench.  
Shared drink and songs and chatter  
And if they had stopped there, no matter  
But they had also progressed to debauchery  
And of God's law made a mockery  
And so they had gone to HELL instead.

By the door there stood a maiden  
To guard against the escape of the craven  
For they must not avoid their fate  
Especially not if their sins are great.  
Our soldier recognised her too  
Because at one time they had lived in the same avenue.

Then all of a sudden the soldier on the gate  
Turned to our soldier, who was his mate  
His spine was straight and his eye was keen  
For even in Hell may camaraderie be seen.  
He shouldered his rifle and took aim  
Like a stalwart without blame  
And because his aim was sure  
He hit his target with fervour.

Thus was the Devil overcome  
By the damnèd and the glum  
Whose baser feelings came to mend  
To halt the dreadful and otherwise inescapable peril of a friend.  
Who had been sent to HELL instead.

And though you would expect retaliation  
The city did not show any sign of habitation  
No-one came pouring out of its gate  
To accost the pair of reprobates  
And both were saved from the fires of Hell  
By the actions of a reformèd swell.

And let all young men take this as a lesson  
Your eternal punishment you may lessen  
Through good works and Godly ways  
Spread throughout your living days.  
For even on your deathbed you may be saved  
From the terrible fate of the Godless and depraved  
If you but repent and pray  
And do not lead yourself astray  
And your finer feelings show  
Make sure that you do this though  
Or you will be sent to HELL instead.

**Author's Note:**

> As your assigned Yuletide writer I wrote https://archiveofourown.org/collections/yuletide2018/works/17027106 . My first attempt at that was a prequel in the style of Housman, but it turns out I'm not *nearly* as good a poet. My goodness can I write in the style of McGonagall though.
> 
> I cannot tell you how much of a blast I had writing this. Also, I have found a use for those terrible online rhyming dictionaries where very few of the words actually rhyme...
> 
> "And he was visible because he was on fire" may be legit (in context) the finest sentence I have ever written, and I am not ashamed to admit it. :-)


End file.
